Like Dust in the Wind
by TriniTea
Summary: "'Come what may! Come what may! I will love you until my dy—' Screams drown out the music." Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir take the ice for their final performance. Little do they know that the fight taking place between the Avengers and the Mad Titan will have drastic consequences. (Figure Skating RPF about ice dancers Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir set during Infinity War)


**…**

 **Author's Note: Sorry, but there is no other catagory I could put this fic :/**

 **Please send your hate mail at seikyn (on Tumblr), the asshole that sent me this text at 11 pm.**

 _"Avengers Infinity War:_

 _Tessa Disappers, Scott didn't_

 _Writing Prompt^"_

 **Thank you.**

 ***Avengers: Infinity War spoilers ahead***

…

 _Come what may!_

 _Come what may!_

 _I will love you until my dy—_

Screams drown out the music.

Scott Moir has been taught since age nine to keep skating through anything; cameras flashing, wardrobe malfunctions, falls. No matter what happens, he was told to just focus on Tessa, to keep himself in the present and everything will be okay.

But despite the countless mental lectures he's been giving himself to _"Focus Scott, your whole life has lead up to this skate"_ , he breaks. His eyes traveling from Tessa to the stands surrounding them, the terror-filled shrieks became too overwhelming to ignore.

Pure horror replaces his previous tender and loving expression as he sees source of the commotion: the audience in panic as dust drifts skyward from empty seats. He stops skating, letting himself drift at the mercy of his blades. A paralyzing shock travels through his body, his legs feeling as though they are about to collapse underneath him. The—the people, _they're disappearing_ , just disappearing into thin air. It's not just a couple of people, no, nearly half of the arena is vacant. Scott watches helplessly as people trying to hold in to their loved ones, only for their ashes to slip through their fingertips.

Tears form on the corners of his eyes. "Oh god," he mutters, his throat clenching as his brain tries to catch up with what he's seeing.

Suddenly, Scott feels a weight disappear from his hands.

His heart sinks, already knowing what's wrong.

His head snaps back to his skating partner. Scott's heart feels heavy in his chest at the sight. Tessa—oh god, Tessa's deteriorating into dust, it quickly consuming her body. She glances down at the void where her hand should be, then back up to Scott. The expression in her face is something he doesn't see often, but he can easily recognize it; fear. And he feels his expression shift to mirror it.

Not daring to waste another second, Scott throws his arms around her, holding her the tightest he's ever held her in twenty years. "No, no, no, no Tessa!" he stammers, tears by the dozen roll down his cheek and into her fabric of her dress. Scott buries his head into her shoulder, trying to control his unsteady breaths.

In between sobs Tessa cries, "Scott. Scott what—what's happening?" her voice is barely audible against his chest. Feeling her disappearing between his arms, he holds even tighter, begging that it will somehow make things better.

"I don't—I don't . . ." Scott chokes out hastily, struggling to compose his thoughts into something coherent. "We'll-we'll . . . Tessa I can't do this without you."

"Scott I'm—" she's cut off by her own sobbs.

Scott moves his hands to her cheeks and moves back to face at her. He smiles weakly, masking every emotion trying to bubble up to the surface. He hates to see her this way, her pain and sorrow masking the rest of her features, painting this incorrect picture of the strong and talented woman he knows. But what he hates most is that he is unable to take her pain away.

Scott wipes the water from her eyes, trying to see her beautiful green orbs before it's too late. She opens her mouth, but before she could say anything more she's—she is . . . Seconds ago he held her in his arms, and now Tessa—now she's . . .

 _Tessa is gone._

He hits the ice hard, but his knees are too numb to feel the impact. Scott frantically reaches up, trying to grab what's left of her. He closes his fist around the dark ashes and brings it close to him. Scott looks down, sucking in a breath as he opens his hand. His palm is empty, the only thing left are the half-moon shapes his nails branded onto his palm.

He thrashes his fists against the ice, screaming her name so loudly it pierces through the noisy arena. Scott's forearms slide onto the ice and he forehead makes contact with the ice. His eyes are shut tight as he forces himself to hold back tears. The audience slips away into white noise and the pants of his shallow breaths are all that fill his ears.

It was supposed to be their moment, whether they reclaimed their Olympic gold or if they came in dead last he and Tessa were going to give it their all and nothing would have stopped them! He's been dreaming about the moment for months; they'd strike their ending pose, Scott would pull her into his arms, sweeping her off the ice with heavy breaths and tears in both of their eyes. They'd look into the stands as they took their final bows. The audience would be at their feet and their families would be decked out all in red and white waving their Canadian flags proudly. It would have been the greatest performance of their lives, easily eclipsing both Sochi and Vancouver. Scott would then skate off with Tessa, not thinking about the gold they were about to win, but thinking about how grateful he is to have lived twenty years by her side.

And somehow a dream so vivid and so real was able to crumble right in front of him so easily . . .

He has to be carried off the ice by Marie-France and Patrice, being drained of the strength to skate off himself. Dried tears stain their faces too and it hurts for Scott to look at them too closely.

The remains of both the Moir and Virtue families are waiting at the boards for him and he falls limp into their arms when he steps off the ice. They cry with him and they cry for him. They try to comfort him with words of _"It will be okay"_ and _"We'll get through this together"_. Scott doesn't respond, he just closes his eyes wishing the whole world just went away.

Morale is low in the Team Canada House. No one's celebrating their victories from earlier that day, no one's indulging as they can finally stop dieting, no laughter fills the house's lounge like usual. There are only a few hush-voiced conversation and silent sobs that fill the desolate and somber atmosphere. It's clear that everyone has lost someone they care about, it's all over their faces, and as many of these athletes complete as a team they also mourn as a team. Many of the remaining Canadian skater, and skaters from other federations, have gather to assist the grieving of their friends, teammates and even their rivals who they only speak of with the fondest memories.

But Scott isolates himself from the group, choosing to remain sit in the back corner of the room and brushing anyone coming to check on him. He leans back in his chair, his thumb picking at the label of his beer bottle as he stares blankly at the TV playing rerun of some sitcom he isn't paying attention to. He had no tears left to cry, he instead sits in silence, letting himself getting lost in thought.

He's heard a people tell him _"I'm sorry for your loss"_ today, but no one understands, not really. They think he just lost his friend and partner, but he feels like he lost half of himself. Tessa knew him like no one else knows him because she was beside him this whole damn time! All the highs and lows they shared together, they knew each other's pain, they knew each other's sacrifices because they shared it. And the only reason he thinks he survived these past twenty years was because he had her there to pull him through. It was always Tessa's hand on his shoulder, telling him to breath and that everything would be okay.

Tessa was his rock, he relied on her and she kept him alive. Their lives have revolved around each other for so long that could never imagine his life without her in it! And for her to be gone? Just at a snap of someone's fingers? Scott just doesn't know what he'll do. No longer does he have Tessa's hand to help pick him up, her shoulder to cry on, her a big pearly smile giving a little light in his life. He just . . . he just doesn't know any more.

He's lost without her. And now how will he survive? Because no one outside their little bubble built for two can understand how fucking empty he feels.

Scott takes another sip of his drink and closes his eyes.

For nearly all of his life it was _'Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir'_ , one without the other sounds incomplete. He'll have to start figuring out how to just be _'Scott Moir'._


End file.
